Maybe there’s this little place you have your heart set on. Maybe it’s a retreat in the woods. Maybe it’s near an ocean or a lake. Maybe it’s near a ski slope. Maybe you can afford it. Maybe you can’t. Maybe you could buy it. Or rent it. Or buy it and rent it out to help you with the cost. Maybe it’s something one of you loves but the other one tolerates. Or maybe, like in Sam and Shellie’s case, it was deeded to you in a will. Whatever (or if you’re a millennial, whatevs).

I know of a couple who bought a beach house, spent a lot to fix it up, and then started renting it to help with the costs. I know because they rented to my family. But, after a few summers, the owners’ family loved it so much they stopped renting it out to us.

I have a good friend who bought a vacation home, and his family uses it some, but they treat it mostly as a way to earn rental income. That’s terrific in the income department. And what could go wrong? Not much, except for the random canoe paddle making a hole in the sheetrock. Or a leak. Or electrical failure. Or air conditioning failure, or they rent to a Mets fan (me) and don’t have the Mets cable channel as part of their tv and internet bundle. Shame on them! But not to worry. Everything is available. At a surcharge.

If my wife and I were fortunate to own a vacation home, I don’t think we’d rent it out. I can imagine sitting at home on a cold winter night, cozy in our sweats or pj’s, fireplace logs crackling away (okay, so we don’t have a fireplace but it sounded good). Suddenly the phone rings at 11 pm and the renter says, “Hi, I can’t get the heat to switch on and it’s getting chilly in here.” I imagine myself saying something soothing like, “Whaddya want me to do about it at 11 pm? Throw on an extra blanket and quit bitching. I’ll call someone in the morning.” And that would ruin my nice, cozy night with our imaginary fireplace.

The other comic plays directly into the careers John and I had for almost 40 years apiece. Advertising products and services. Which I define as making something look and sound better than it actually is. Example: “No other pain reliever gets to the pain faster than … fill in the blank. (Advil, Motrin, Aleve, Tylenol, etc.) The point is, they all get to the pain at exactly the same speed, but none of them work faster. Another trick is putting a question mark at the end of a statement. “The best coffee maker ever?” Well actually it isn’t, but it doesn’t hurt to ask. This constant need to lie about stuff is part of what drove us both out of advertising. The other part was the unwritten rule that people in their 60’s cannot work in an ad agency unless they own the place. The business also changed dramatically (like every other business). Instead of writing commercials and shooting them with big stars and big-name directors, it became planning “events that go viral,” or creating “a virtual town hall,” or stuff like that. And don’t forget algorithms. Towards the end of my career I was working on a project when, thanks to data mining (probably the wrong term) I was told that “We’ve learned that people who like this product like the color yellow, so try to work that in visually, verbally, and make sure there’s lots of yellow on the set.” At that point I knew it was time to skedaddle.

That’s it for this week. And whether you buy, rent or buy and rent out, have a wonderful Thanksgiving.

Sending holiday wishes, love and kisses,

Andy and John